


The Sacrifices of Duty

by Filduine



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Romance, Eventual marriage, Everyone has an agenda, F/F, F/M, Forgiveness, Jaded Perspectives, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, Mystery, Past Relationship(s), Post-Trespassor, Post-War, Reformed Elvhenan, Strained Friendships, Ten Years Later, Trevelyan Siblings, War, failure - Freeform, friendships, peace talks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filduine/pseuds/Filduine
Summary: It had been eleven years since Maxwell folded the Inquisiton into the Chantry. And eleven years of half-failures in trying to stop Solas' plans. He knew along with everyone else that that unspoken war was nearly over and the best he could do is settle for peace with the Elvhen God in order to better fight the next war on the horizon: the one they would wage against the Evanuris when the last of the Veil would be torn down.And to make sure humanity could still have a place alongside the fledgling Elvhen, he would go against his better judgment to try and manipulate his once-friend into his plans. He only wished it didn't also involve his little sister; a woman who left his side eleven years ago in order to save his reputation and the Inquisition's.





	1. i

**15 Drakonis 9:55**

* * *

“Don’t ask me to do this. Maker’s breath, she’ll __murder__ me and you all know it.”

Maxwell Trevelyan sighed heavily as he leaned against their makeshift war table. Fourteen years and somehow they always ended up back to where it all began—the dungeons of Haven. The restoration of Haven had been one of the first decrees of Divine Victoria. Only now their old maps of Ferelden and Orlais included another one that went all the way to the northern edges of Tevinter, proof of just how far they had gone to try and save the world. And still, it had made so very little difference.

He didn’t need to look up from the worn map to know the borderline pitying looks his advisers were leveling on him. It was Josephine’s touch between his shoulder blades that made him inhale sharply. He didn’t realize how much bitterness and anger that request had dredged up in him. Or the pain he refused to give words to.

“None of us like this idea, nor would we mention it if we had another choice,” Leliana said, keeping her voice soft. “But we cannot continue to ignore facts.”

He couldn’t stop the scoffing laugh that came out of his mouth. “Yes, the __facts__. That we were all too stupid to see just how much we were helping an actual __god__ in his plans to destroy the world all those years ago. That for as powerful as we thought we were, the most we could do was get him to __alter__ said plans.”

“Not us, not entirely.” He looked up to see Leliana shake her head. “Solas still has humanity within him. If he wanted, he would not have suffered our meddling or the alterations to his plans. __You__ reminded him that we are just as real as he is.” She clasped her hands behind her back now that she had caught his attention. “Now we use that to make sure we do not entirely lose this war on his terms. Or the one to come against whoever these Evanuris are. He knows that, too. Why else even put on a farce of peace talks?”

“And if we go,” Josephine spoke next, her hand falling away from his shoulders, “the other nations will follow, taking it as though not only the Inquisition trusts in this, but the Chantry as well. They may actually settle for peace, if we prove it can happen.”

Maxwell sighed again. He knew all this already. “There’s just one problem. It’s not me who reminds him of any of that, not really. It’s her. And nobody even know where she actually is!”

Leliana glanced to her side at Charter, communicating silently in ways Max had never been able to pick up. Proof of just how good his spymasters were, or of how oblivious he could be at times. “Actually, through Charter’s work, we have a general idea as to where she is. You’ll need to write her tonight if we are to get word to her in time, if our information is still good.”

“And what will I say?” He threw his hand up in the air. “I can’t tell her the truth because then she definitely won’t come. And if I lie to her, she __will__ kill me.”

“It has been over ten years, love.” Josephine’s hand came back to rest on his shoulder. “We’ve all changed in that time, perhaps even her. And… her feelings on the matter.”

He snorted. “Like his has?”

But they were right. It was why he even bothered with arguing and they knew it. If only this entire matter wasn’t so personal, still somehow so raw after half a decade. But that was the proof of just how deep those bonds ran, and of how deep that betrayal had cut. How it kept cutting with every loss, in every time they met on a battlefield and no one died despite the opportunities.

And she had taken the only option still left: to walk away. For and from him and his decisions.

He could feel his face twist into a scowl at that as he sought to unclench his fist. Dorian had been right all those years ago when he was just a naive boy; the world hadn’t been thankful for its survival. Probably still wouldn’t be even if he threw his sister back into the wolf’s den, as it were, for some semblance of peace.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he said. Like they probably already knew he was going to. What was another sacrifice to try and save an unthankful world?

“Perhaps it would be best to, ah, obscure the truth a little from her?” He glanced at Josephine from the corner of his eyes. “But explain the truth in person, of course.”

He smiled and dropped his hand to squeeze hers on his shoulder. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

He turned and walked away before he could see the worry in her eyes. More than anyone else, she knew how heavily continuing to be the Inquisitor and working with the Chantry had worn on him since the Exalted Council a lifetime ago. Nothing had been the same since then.

Yet here he was, about to help change the world again. While he knew there would be no thanks, he at least hoped for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

* * *

  **3 Cloudreach 9:55**

* * *

 

Serault had seen something of a revival in the last decade. The elves— _Elvhen_ as they now preferred to be called—had developed a lucrative trade deal with the town. As they reclaimed land and rebuilt their old towns and capital, they used the famed glass works of Serault to help. In return, they traded freely with the town as others did not. Not since the Chantry had stripped them of most everything decades ago.

But the Elvhen cared nothing of the Chantry’s views. Especially now that they had proven they could repel an Exalted March with a god on their side.

As such, Serault was one of the few places where information flowed freely not only about the Chantry and various human nations, but also about the reformed Elvhenan. Elvhen, barefaced and proud, walked freely and traded freely. Only outsiders looked twice at such sights.

But she never bothered. She barely bothered to pay attention to the idle gossip that flowed freely in streets and the tavern unless some part of the war was going to be in her path. That she listened to, if just to make sure she could avoid it.

She had had enough of war.

The barkeep nodded toward her usual table once she entered into the tavern. Despite how full it seemed—and the town, too—no one really went near her normal table. It was too far in the back for normal patrons to hear any juicy gossip, which was how she preferred it.

She made her way over there slowly, knowing the barkeep wouldn’t bother her aside from dropping off food. He knew her routine by now, and she paid in good enough coin for him to remember. Until he made his way over to her with whatever they had cooking, she deliberated on her plans.

For the first time in a while, she had no clear way forward. She interlaced her fingers and rested her chin upon them as she thought. In her pack, she had two offers of mercenary work; one in Cumberland, the other in Nessum. But she also had enough coin on her that she didn’t need to work, not after her last job in Churneau.

Maybe she would buy a horse again—

She stilled, focusing on her surroundings.

The bard had missed three strings and struggled to regain her rhythm. Conversation and gossip still flowed, but some of it had stilled. Enough to catch her attention. Someone unexpected had entered the tavern.

She dared not move, to give off a sign she had noticed what some of the other customers had, not when it was so easy to tell whoever it was was looking for someone. They hung around the entrance, lingering instead of heading toward a table. And while she knew it was stupid to be so on edge by this, she couldn’t help her natural reaction. No one had looked for her in years. Perhaps no one realized she still lived.

Well, depending on who was asked, she didn’t really.

Until she felt their eyes land on her, burning through her traveling cloak with the intensity of their gaze. She thought back on her recent travels and could come up with no one she had wronged. Or it was better to say: no one she had wronged who still lived.

Let them lose interest or realize they had the wrong person on their own.

She heard their footsteps come closer and fought the urge to palm her hidden dagger. In two seconds she could be up and knock them down. Another three would have her out the door before they regained their balance. But she didn’t act on those thoughts; curiosity won out and she waited as they stopped beside her.

She kept her face as disinterested as possible as she tilted her head toward the interloper. Only to find that she had to angle her head down.

A dwarf. A smile overtook the stranger’s face as their eyes met. And that was when familiarity struck her.

She stared at her for a second longer before looking ahead once more. “Scout Harding. You may as well sit to get their attention off us.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She let out a breathy laugh before taking the seat across from her. Both women made no effort to speak, content to take in the changes the years had wrought on them both. The years had been kind to Harding as only the beginnings of crow’s feet were apparent on her freckled face.

She waited until the bard had regained her rhythm and chatter returned to normal before leaning back and letting her arms cross in front of her. In the back of her mind, she knew she could still make a run for it. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Wow. Sorry.” Harding rubbed the back of her neck. A decade and three wars almost gone, but she still had so much hope in her voice. It brought a smile to her face. “I just didn’t think I’d actually find you. All we had were guesses and some old information, but here you are! Anyway, how’ve you been, Ev—”

“Ellana,” she cut her off. No one had called her by her proper name in years. Not since that night.

“Oh, right.”

In spite of it all, Ellana’s smile became fonder. “I’ve been well. And you? Still being sent out to the ass-end of Thedas I see?”

Harding chuckled. “Not in a while actually. I volunteered for this. At the very least, I thought a friendly face would do you good.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it as her food was delivered. This was sooner than she was used to being served and she could see the curiosity in the barkeep’s eyes. “Thank you.” She placed five royals on the table. “Would you be so kind as to bring my companion some as well?”

As she suspected, the coin was quickly snatched and a curt nod given before he walked away. She overpaid for the meal by four royals, but the rest paid for privacy and silence. She hoped, at least.

Despite the hunger gnawing away at her, she ignored her food. “While I appreciate the thought, why are you really here?”

“Your brother sent me. With this.” She produced an envelope from her vest and placed it on the table between them.

Ellana made no move to take it, not yet. “Did he say anything else?”

Harding shrugged. “Depends on what your answer is.”

Her curiosity peaked further, she plucked the envelope off the table and traced the Inquisition seal once before breaking it. The letter was shorter than she had imagined, likely from all the years between them.

_Dearest sister,_

_Forgive me for not writing sooner. Or writing at all, depending. I remember what you requested but it_ has _been well over ten years. I figured enough time has passed that I can ignore our agreement._

_You’ll be pleased to know that Josephine has yet to tire of me, and as such, I am going to finally make an honest woman out of her (yes, yes, wipe that smile off your face. Maker, there’s no putting up with you even in my mind). I might even grant her her second wish and finally lay down the mantle as Inquisitor._

_So please, I’d be on my knees begging if we were face-to-face, come to Halamshiral by the seventeenth of Cloudreach. I want you here for this. More than that, I’ve missed you._

_Please give Harding your answer soon._

_All the love from your dashing brother,_

_Maxwell_

She had to read the letter three more times before it all sunk in and she could blink away the tears that tried to gather in her eyes. It had been so long since she heard from Max or anyone. She wasn’t even sure she remembered what her brother looked like or how his voice sounded. Would she even recognize Josephine? Would they recognize her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to dwell on those thoughts.

But could she really pass up the chance to see her brother? To be with him on what could likely be one of the happiest days of his life?

Could she be the woman she left behind at Skyhold once again?

She sighed as she folded the letter back up and placed it into its envelope once more. Harding looked up from her own food that had been delivered, awaiting her answer. She should have known that once she had options in her life, something like this would happen. Her luck had always been shit, after all.

She could say no and go on to Nessum out of spite, but her brother’s letter already weighed heavily against her. Her mind had been made up likely since she recognized Harding and didn’t run.

“What happens if I say no?”

Harding wiped her mouth clear of any lingering food before answering. “Then I leave you here. He was clear about leaving you to your own life, though he wanted me to ask you to write every now and then. He worries about you a lot more than he’ll admit.”

Ellana smiled as she looked down at his letter. “That does sound like him.”

“So?” Harding looked at her, eyes wide and hopeful.

“I think we both know each other well enough to know what my answer is.”

It was odd to see Harding light up in happiness. Those earlier tears threatened to return and a vice-like grip took hold of her heart at seeing her smile. Had she really missed these friendships that much over the years? What would it do to her to return and see almost everyone?

“Everyone will be so happy to see you again! They don't talk about it, but it's obvious you've been missed. Anyway, we’ll stay here for the night and head out in the morning since we only have a fortnight to get there. If you don’t have a horse, I have enough coin to buy one. It’ll make the trip easier.”

Ellana smiled despite the dread that pressed heavily into her chest. Perhaps she should have run.


	2. ii

**17 Cloudreach 9:55**

* * *

Southerner wine was still watered down piss. One would think with how long he had been friends with the Inquisitor, they would at least _try_ to serve something better than backwash out of courtesy.

But he still swallowed it back before grabbing another goblet from a servant. Maker knew he needed to be something less than sober this entire week or else… Well, he didn’t entirely know what _could_ be worse than this entire situation. At least he already had his escape to Lydes planned out for tonight; he just had to suffer through these tense attempts at small-talk for another hour.

Then he could finally see his lover for the first time in two years.

But perhaps that was also why he was here. Not for the Inquisitor nor what remained of the Inquisition. Not even for peace between Thedas and fledgling Elvhenan, not entirely. More like for what it could represent if it worked. Maybe it could even ease tensions between other races as well. And they wouldn’t have to sneak around Thedas to carry on their love affair.

He swallowed another gulp of the wine and turned away from his fellows: other Magisters of the Imperium. Perhaps he would try to snag some conversation with his old friends before he made his getaway.

He knew where the ones he cared about where likely to be. He placed his still full goblet on another servant’s tray and began to make the trek to the back of the ballroom, where the Empress’ private balconies where. While she didn’t actually show up, she _oh-so-graciously_ gave their use to the Chantry and Solas. Neutral ground, so to speak.

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Surely she remembered how well that worked out for her all those years ago.

He glanced back to make sure his fellows stayed behind. They had the poor habit of following him everywhere while they were in the South, likely disgusted by the quaintness of Southerners as he had once been.

But it was a vision in crimson who caught his eye instead.

She was lingering near the entrance from the vestibule, quietly enough that even he hadn’t noticed her entrance. Even if she hadn’t been wearing such a bold color, that quietness would have had his eyes lingering. The nobility here didn’t move like that.

Then she turned her head his way and he forgot his earlier plan.

He was next to her before he fully realized he had moved. How long had it been since he—or _anyone—_ had even heard a whisper of her name on the wind?

“Hello, Dorian,” she said with a smile made small and crooked from sadness on her face. She still wore that rich shade of red on her lips, just like in his memories. Still lined her eyes with heavy kohl just as he remembered. Her hair was longer than he had ever seen it, but he remembered those dark curls.

He extended his arm and she easily took it. Just like old times. “Now what is a pretty young woman thinking, showing up here unaccompanied and unannounced? What will the nobles think?”

She laughed and squeezed his arm. It felt like she squeezed his heart instead. “You know you’re the only one who noticed me.”

“You give yourself no credit. I can spot at least three lords of such-and-such and eight ladies of who-cares taking note of you right now.”

“That’s only because I’m on your arm. They must be trying to figure out what game the Magister is playing at.”

He looked at her and saw his grin matched by her own. “Well, my dear, shall we give them what they want?” He barely had to ask with how she tugged his arm before he finished his question. The ballroom was only used by plotting nobles in typical Orlais fashion. The only thing different was that elves were using it for the same reason instead of hiding about in the shadows as servants.

She didn’t protest as he led her into a waltz. He knew just as she did that she wasn’t entirely ready to see their old friends. To see her brother. The only reason he wasn’t entirely shocked by her appearance was because Max had informed him. There was little they kept from each other, especially when such large reassurances would be needed.

He only hoped Max hadn’t completely lied to get her there.

But with how he watched her look around and take note of the atmosphere, the elves, the dour faces… He sighed. “Evie.”

She looked directly at him for the first time and he noticed the years. Her nose had been broken and not set entirely properly. A nasty scar ran across her left brow to her cheekbone; he was surprised she hadn’t lost the eye. It added to her untamed charm, somehow. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was the mind he could see putting pieces together behind those eyes.

“There is no wedding, is there?” she murmured. He wasn’t sure she meant it to be a question, not entirely.

“No.” But he took it that way and answered as he always had. Blunt honesty had been one of the few things she had asked for years ago. “Who did you think was getting married?”

“He said he was finally marrying Josie.”

“Ah.” He hated it when his feelings ended up being correct. “ _That_ would get you to come back from the dead.”

He watched as something sharpened in her gaze, something that hadn’t been there when they parted ways in this very room years ago. “What do you know?”

“Before that, I have a better question. What do _you_ currently know about what’s happening in the world?”

The silence that dragged on for five steps told him more than her words ever could.

Bull would just have to wait for him a little while longer.

* * *

 Were she still her younger self, she was certain she would have walked over to her brother and punched him in the face.

As she was not, she stole away from Dorian with all the grace she could muster in her anger and found herself a goblet of wine and an unoccupied corner of one of the many public balconies. She had smiled, tight-lipped and fake, all the way there but let it fall with a sigh once she was alone.

What Dorian had told her of the last decade filled in some of the gaps of her knowledge, but did nothing to soothe her anger and hurt. She understood the necessity of lies— _of course_ she did—and she would be a hypocrite to say she had never lied herself, but this hurt.

Did he think she wouldn’t listen if he told her the truth? Perhaps he thought she would have acted on her first instincts and run away from Harding? If so, he wasn’t all that far from the truth. But still…

He knew how happy she was for the both of them. How, before she left, she had teased them mercilessly about marriage. And he had used that to get her here. To be another pawn in the game of peace.

She removed the gloves she had been gifted and rested her bare hands against the marble balustrade. The cold helped soothe some of her anger. As much as she wished to, she could not return angry. Could not punch her brother. Could not say anything of his deceptions where so many ears could overhear.

“Evelyn?”

Her heart stuttered. How many times had that voice haunted her dreams? She did not turn around to face him, she could not. Even just hearing him say her name was enough for her lungs to quicken and tears to burn behind her eyes.

“I didn’t think...” He paused, likely remembering himself. When he spoke next, that familiar softness was gone from his voice and replaced with the cool detachment he used on others. Even her, in the beginning. “Quite a few people tried to look for you, but no one has been able to find you for quite a while. I am surprised you would come for this.”

She felt more than heard him come closer to her, but she still refused to face him. “No. I wasn’t found because no one tried to find me.” She chuckled darkly and reached for her forgotten wine. “No one cared when Evelyn disappeared.”

He was at her side, close enough for her body to remember how easily it was to fit against him. “You know that’s not true, vhenan.”

That soft, familiar tone was back and she didn’t want to hear it. Not that tone, nor his words. “Don’t.” Her earlier anger fed into her new anger at him, giving her the strength to look at him. The years hadn’t touched him, hadn’t left a single mark upon his face. Even the scar on his brow hadn’t faded. Not like they did to her. “No one can cut away their heart as easily as you did to me. So don’t call me that. Not anymore.”

He was quiet and unmoved, like always. But that was the anger seeing, and she knew it. She knew how wrong that assessment was. She knew he wasn’t expecting her to have ever figured out his nickname for her, or any of the Elvish he whispered to her in another life.

“You’ve traveled far then, I assume.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugged and turned away from him. If she didn’t look at him, then he couldn’t see through her and all her words. “Perhaps I’ve had a few lovers who whispered the same things to me and didn’t evade my questions.”

She could feel his anger between them now, joining with hers, and his eyes upon her. She knew he wanted her to turn and meet his gaze, but she refused. They would fight or maybe she would grab him and bruise—

_No._ Those thoughts were best left in the past.

“Hm.” Instead he reached out and brushed his hand against her bare shoulder. She couldn’t stop the gooseflesh from rising just as she couldn’t stop her breath from hitching. He always had a way of catching her off-guard. He leaned in closer, murmuring, “Perhaps. But I think we both know the truth of the matter.”

She hated how he did this; how he could break down everything she tried to be and do with just a look or a touch. Sometimes she could convince herself she hated him, but her heart never let that exist for long. She needed to leave before that happened. She stepped to the side, his hand falling from her shoulder. “And what is the truth of the matter, Solas?”

But he didn’t answer. He stared at her with that untouched politeness made sharper by his own anger. She only knew because she knew his tells better than he likely thought she did.

With a shake of her head she turned from him and took another sip of her wine. “I knew I was deluding myself about your feelings for me when I wasn’t worth even a single goodbye. But I at least thought there had been enough friendship between us to be deserving of some answer. I don’t know why I’m surprised to learn I was wrong again.”

She started to walk away, perhaps she would find Dorian again. Or Varric, if he was here. Likely not her brother though. Not after this. But Solas caught her arm before she could walk away.

For a breath, she saw pain pinch his eyebrows together and his mouth twist into a frown. But, like with most things involving Solas, it was gone as soon as it appeared. “For what it’s worth, I _am_ sorry.”

“I’m sure.” She hoped it came out as mocking and smug as it sounded in her head. She didn’t wait to see his reaction. He didn’t even try to hold on to her when she tugged her arm away. He never did.

Perhaps that hurt most of all.

* * *

Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to stave off the headache he knew was coming on. He hated everything about today and Dorian had just made it worse. Though there were worse people his sister could have run into first aside from Dorian. He had hoped he would find her first.

No, that was a lie.

If he had really wished that, he would have been out in the vestibule, waiting. He would have had Josephine out there waiting, at least. But she was handling the Council of Heralds and he was hiding. He would admit to that.

It wasn’t a secret how he hated politics, and he wasn’t about to correct anyone on that assumption tonight. It was better than admitting he was afraid of seeing his sister. Especially now that she knew some of what was going on.

“Inquisitor.”

He gave a heavy sigh and dropped his fingers. “Solas.”

Much like every time before, the would-be god strode into the room—well, balcony—with his hands clasped behind his back. He had taken it for an apostate quirk, but he knew now how stupid that was. Solas could never hide the truth of who he was when it came to his gait. It was always too proud for a simple apostate.

“I have to say I am surprised you agreed so willingly to my proposal. And of how many countries followed your lead, even now.”

Maxwell rested his hand against the marble balustrade, letting the coldness center him. He needed it. “Are you really? After all the time we’ve spent together?”

“No, not entirely. I am more surprised Orlais and Fereldan agreed, more than anything else.”

“You and me both.” He snorted. The grudge those two countries held against each other, and him to a degree, was still raw. “But my terrible small talk isn’t why you came over here, is it?”

“Astute as ever.” Maxwell could’ve sworn Solas was mocking him, but there was no edge to the words. It was almost like they were friends again when he said things like that. And that was why he hated talking to Solas these days. “You’ve become better at playing this Game.”

“Tell that to Leliana.”

Solas tilted his head to the side to better observe him and Maxwell felt like he was nothing more than a bug to be studied. He probably was. “Playing at being dense may work with others, but we know each other too well for it to be more than an insult.”

“It’s a habit at this point.” He shrugged. “But seriously, tell Leliana. Or Josie. They both still think I’ll fumble into some misstep and set off some new war.”

“They are not wrong,” he said with a smirk. He wondered if even Solas forgot they weren’t exactly friends anymore too, or if all this banter was some new way to fuck with his head. “I said you were better, not that you’ve become a master.”

“Ouch.” He smirked, but dropped it when Solas turned around to look back toward the ballroom. He followed his lead, but couldn’t see anything that would catch his attention. Not even Josephine was in there. “I have to try at least. We both know what’s coming and I think we’ve both seen enough of war to drag out any more.”

“The years have been kind to her.” He inhaled sharply and turned his head to look at Solas, but he never returned the favor. He didn’t have to be a genius to know who he was talking about. “I wonder if she realizes the full truth of her presence here.”

“Of course she does,” he said quickly. He looked back to the ballroom, this time trying to see if she was there. It had been years and he hadn’t seen her yet. Dorian said her dress was red—

And there she was.

Her hair was longer than she had ever kept it, even when they were children. Dorian hadn’t mentioned the scar nor the new way she carried herself. Underneath the quiet, close way she held herself he could barely see the straight back and pulled-back shoulders of their noble upbringing. He was used to that bold confidence in her gaze and stride; not this quieter, prowler’s gait.

She must have felt his eyes lingering on her too long because she looked up and saw him. Her mouth was tight as she took a sip of her wine before making her way toward him.

He swallowed around the lump of fear in his throat and turned back to Solas, only to find that he was already looking at him, had likely already seen their small exchange. “Why wouldn’t she know the truth?”

He smiled, thin and knowing. “You shouldn’t have let me find her first.” And then he inclined his head. “Enjoy your evening, Inquisitor.”

Solas walked away seconds before Evelyn reached him. He watched her frown deepen as she stared at Solas’ back and knew the truth of his words then. There were so many things he had had to keep to himself and lie about.

Even to her all those years ago.

But he did his best to push all that aside. “Evie… Maker, I’ve missed you.” And that was the honest truth.

Some of her frown disappeared when she looked at him. She was quiet for a few moments before she seemed to come to a decision. “I’ve missed you, too, Maxie.”

That old childish nickname was all he needed to hear before he pulled her into a hug. With her so close, he only had to turn his head to whisper, “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Only if you do actually marry her.”

He laughed and held her tighter. “When the time is right, I will. When all this is settled.”

“No.” She pulled back. “There’ll never be a right time. You have to make it yourself.”

He sighed. Her words brought up similar sentiments from so many other people. “I know. But is it so wrong to hope for there to not be a war going on when I marry?”

He knew that searching look she was giving him. It was so similar to the way Solas scrutinized him and likely neither of them realized that similarity. He knew she could cut through him with those eyes. In person, he had never been very good at hiding things from her. He was counting on all the years between them to give him some sort of defense from her.

Somehow, he thought it didn’t work as well as he hoped.

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be here,” she began, pulling away from his arm. “The rumors will begin again. I’m sure no noble has forgotten all the rumors. And I’m sure most of the bards remember—”

He gripped her shoulder before she could slip away. “Let them. I’m not letting you leave here so quickly or in the dead of night ever again.”

She smiled and gently eased his grip. He didn’t need to be as observant as his friends to know that smile came from sadness.

Solas had been right; while he had gotten better at the Game, he still wasn’t __good__. He should have been the first to speak to her instead of hiding like a coward. Because she knew already. She knew he was trying to use her like a pawn. But she likely hadn’t figured out the reason why yet.

“I’ll be staying in the town. I’ll find you and Josie tomorrow and you can tell me why you risked so much to have me come here.”

He nodded. “All right.” And he let her slip away again.

Maxwell only hoped she wouldn’t disappear in the night again before his plans were finished.


	3. iii

**18 Cloudreach 9:55**

* * *

The Brassy Knave Inn was as overpriced and gaudy as the name made it sound, but it had been Evelyn’s only option last night. She overestimated how full the city of Halamshiral was at the moment, though that was mainly because she first arrived under false pretenses of what was going on. The rest was because she simply didn’t believe so many people or countries would actually try for peace. But she probably should have—if even she was tired, why not rulers and armies?

So all the cheap inns were filled, along with all the other ostentatious ones. She had passed by the Knave twice knowing she didn’t have the coin for it, but she tried her luck anyway. And found out that a room had already been paid for, but they never showed, so she was given it for the night.

She didn’t trust it at all—her luck had never been anything other than shit—but her pride wouldn’t allow her to crawl back to the palace where her brother and Solas were.

Because of the circumstances, she wasn’t surprised when she left her room in the morning to find Sera waiting just outside her door.

“Hope you know I’m pissed at you,” was all the rogue said.

She expected as much, but it did nothing to stop her from smiling. “I missed you too.”

“Pfft,” Sera stuck out her tongue in mock disgust before throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Just you wait, you’ll wake up to spiders in your pillow or something. Haven’t figured out that part yet.”

“I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t.”

She threw back her head and laughed as they headed down the stairs. “You’re still right crazy.”

“Mayhem!”

Her head swiveled to the only occupied table in the bottom floor tavern to see Rainier, Varric and Dorian waiting. It was almost like it used to be when they would get together for their normal Wicked Grace games at the Herald’s Rest. They were only missing Bull.

Dorian must’ve noticed the direction her thoughts were taking. “He’s in Lydes. Qunari aren’t exactly welcome in the south anymore.”

“ _Especially_ in Halamshiral,” Rainier added.

Dorian nodded. “He did ask me to say that you better stop by after all this is done to see him and the boys.”

Her earlier smile turned even fonder and she felt the burn of the beginning of tears. Even after all these years, even after she had slipped away without a single word… They were willing to brush it aside and pretend like so much hadn’t happened. She blinked rapidly and cleared her throat as Sera and she took the last two seats at the table. “Of course I will.”

The innkeeper—an elvhen woman with a bare face and red hair—arrived at their table and placed down five mugs of ale before disappearing behind the counter again.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

“You think we’re heading to the palace to deal with all this shit _sober?_ Mayhem you should know better.” Varric chuckled before taking a deep gulp.

“And we’re not officially involved in any of their talks or whatever it is they hope to do. So we don’t have to pretend to be anything other than drunk,” Rainier said. Sera nodded in agreement as she took her own deep drink.

Evelyn chuckled once and shook her head. They did have the right idea, especially since she knew her brother and Solas were there. And she would have to see them. At least her brother. She did promise.

She drank deeply as well to which Sera cheered once. She set down the mug heavily. “So, how has everyone been?”

Everyone went silent, unwilling to talk about their lives, except for Sera who leaned forward. “Same ole shite, different knob. But you’d know that if you actually showed up and did what you said, _new Jenny_.”

She winced. Sera forgetting about that promise was something she should have realized wasn’t going to happen. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Dorian interjected. “I understand the reasons behind why you left, but not why you cut off contact. You could’ve joined Sera and her little… _group_. Bull would have been glad to take you into his company. I’m sure even Varric would have been glad to have someone use the house he gave to Max.”

Evelyn winced again and leaned back. Yes, she had had many options and hadn’t taken a single one. Outside of herself, Max and his council, she didn’t think anyone knew the full extent of the rumors and whispers. Of how close everything had come to falling apart before it had even actually begun. “It wouldn’t have been enough distance,” she finally said. “You’re all Max’s friends, close to him and the Inquisition no matter the years, and I… I needed to disappear for a while.”

The innkeeper reappeared with a platter full of fresh bread, cheeses and fruits. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, or even the night before as caught up in her own inner turmoil as she had been, but something about her was familiar. Perhaps it was the eyes or even the color of her hair, but she couldn’t put her finger on what stood out to her. And ultimately she shoved it to the back of her mind; she hadn’t done them any harm yet.

“That’s a shite answer.” Sera broke the silence again and pulled her attention back to them.

“But what’s done is done,” Rainier quickly said. “It’s good to have you back again.”

“It’s good to be back,” she said, grabbing some fruit. “I assume things have been staying much the same for the rest of you as well?”

Varric sighed heavily as Dorian took a slow drink. “Well then,” Rainier spoke up, “I was just in Denerim before this, helping out as they sort through some of the mess they have going on there.”

“You’re still atoning?”

He nodded. “That I am. There’s a lot of people needing help now with everything that’s been happening.”

“Lots of uppity knobs, too.”

“And you? What have you been up to? Had to have been exciting to have a scar like that,” he said, gesturing at her face.

She brought a hand up to her cheekbone, brushing against the bottom of her scar. “Nothing all that exciting, just mercenary work. Like Sera said, lots of uppity knobs around.”

“A scar like that has to have a great story behind it,” Varric said.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember.” It wasn’t a total lie. But to tell the truth would likely have her alternate identity compromised and she wanted to keep that out open. “It was years ago.”

“Fine, keep all the good stories to yourself.”

She smiled slyly. “You mean you haven’t asked Dorian about the rumor that was going around a few years ago? About a mercenary company headed by a Tal’Vashoth rescuing his Magister lover from an assassination attempt?”

She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth as innocently as she could when Dorian glared at her.

“Wassit? That really happened?”

“Shit, Sparkler! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re lucky I like you enough to _not_ strangle you, Evie,” he finally said. “How do you even know about that? It’s not common knowledge outside of Tevinter.”

She shrugged. “I was nearby on a job when I heard the news.”

“And you didn’t even stop to check on my health? I’m _hurt_.”

“I figured it would’ve added to your problems.”

“Shit, I wish someone would _try_ to assassinate me,” Varric said. “Then I could finally talk them into kicking me out as Viscount.”

“Hah, that’s unlikely.” Rainier laughed into his mug. “You’re the best thing to happen to Kirkwall and the Free Marches from what I hear.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“How has Kirkwall been?” Evelyn asked before turning to Dorian. “And Minrathous? I heard the Veil’s been gone from both cities for a while now.”

“From what I understand from Solas, the places where there’s been too much blood magic or too much death, or both in our cases, is why the Veil is gone when it hasn’t even come down fully anywhere else.” Dorian paused. “Despite all our disagreements about all of this, the Veil being gone has done little to change life in Minrathous. There aren’t quite as many slaves anymore, though. Harder to subjugate people who can hurl fire right back at you.”

“I wish it was going as well in Kirkwall.” Varric sighed. “Mages freaked out, the Templars freaked out even more. Then the nobility freaked out. Abominations were common for a while. Things smoothed out eventually. Somewhat. Hopefully the fear of magic starts to fade soon. Nearly every child born now is born with it and the Gallows hasn’t been able to handle it.”

Dorian made a thoughtful noise. “I was wondering about that. It’s the same in most of Tevinter, more than normal. A child born without magic has become a rare occurrence.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that _everyone_ is being born with magic? Fuck off, that’s not what I wanted to hear today!”

_So his plans were coming to fruition_ , Evelyn thought. Magic was coming back, the Veil was close to coming down entirely, Elvhen were free and thriving again… And all it took was throwing aside a heart.

She bit into a roll vicious enough that Varric nudged her elbow. The pitying looks from her friends were enough to know that they knew where her thoughts had been. With a sigh she placed down the bread and pushed away from the table. She didn’t want to deal with this, not when she was likely to keep running into him for the length of her stay.

“Sorry, but I promised Max and Josie I’d see them.”

They were silent for a second before Dorian spoke up. “It’s likely the best time. Maker knows none of the other nobility is likely to wake before midday.”

“Yeah, see you later tonight, Mayhem.”

She didn’t look as she waved goodbye. Their pity was not something she ever wanted to deal with again.

* * *

It was Josephine who greeted her and granted her entry into the palace grounds. Unlike what she thought, Josie didn’t lead her into the palace proper to meet with her brother, but meandered her through the gardens and walkways in relative silence after their greetings had fallen away.

It was...strange.

But as the servants and the odd early-risen noble were left behind the further into the gardens they went, Evelyn realized why. She would finally get some answers that Dorian had been unable to provide.

Or so she hoped.

“I hope you’ll be able to forgive Max.” Evelyn started at her words. She wasn’t expecting the silence to be broken until they reached whatever destination Josie had in mind. “He was against writing you from the beginning, along with lying to you.”

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from blurting out her first thoughts. Especially since they both knew that while Max may be many things, a pushover he was not. There was no making Max do things he didn’t want to do. Instead, she took the easier route as this was not how she wanted her first real conversation with Josie to go. “I told him I would if he finally made an honest woman out of you.”

The older woman breathed a laugh out of her nose. “We have time yet. Hopefully after this is taken care of and everything settles again.” Then she shook her head as if she had given this all too much thought too many times before. “As I said, there’s time yet.”

“So what is going on?” she finally asked. “Dorian made it seem like this is all peace talks. So if that’s true, why isn’t now the best time?”

Josie sighed and she watched as her hands twitched for notes and a board she no longer carried. “It is… And it isn’t. Like with most things involving Solas, things are not as they would seem.”

Evelyn stopped, forcing Josephine to as well. “Just tell me what’s going on,” she said, her patience finally running out. “I know I can’t just be here for moral support, not once whoever is here from Ferelden figures out just who I am. There is no way any of you would summon me back here just for peace talks involving… involving _him_ , not with what all happened. Why take this risk, Josie?”

She knew she slipped from angry to pleading at some point with how Josie’s face fell. “I—I know. And I’m sorry. As I said, things are not as they seem. And we are taking a gamble with you, but one that should be worth it.”

“What Josie means,” Leliana’s voice cut through the tension ahead of them, “is that we need you for our own agenda.” Now, this made sense to Evelyn. The former spymaster had been her usual point of contact for missions with the Inquisition and if they were playing at their own game, then of course Josie had been leading her toward her. She had just ruined those plans with her impatience.

She crossed her arms and met Leliana’s stare. “I can’t help if I don’t even have a clue as to what exactly is going on here.”

Leliana motioned behind her for them to follow, to a secluded building at the edge of the gardens and overlooking the town below. “These _are_ peace talks. Out of everyone here, only Tevinter and Ferelden might not settle for an end to all the fighting and the failed Exalted March. But we are looking past that; past this summit and past whatever coming war Solas will bring to us. No matter what happens, if we—if _humanity—_ is to survive alongside the elves, we must continue to remind Solas.”

Evelyn stopped again and blanched. “No,” she whispered and shook her head. “No. I—I can’t. I—no.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shrugged off whichever one of their hands from her shoulder. She didn’t care if she was being childish, there was simply no way they had brought her back here to rekindle old mistakes.

Her heart barely survived the last time she gave it away to him.

“Why now? You’ve been doing just fine keeping him from destroying everyone without me. I don’t need to be here for this!”

She heard the smirk on Leliana’s face before she even opened her eyes to see it. “The Inquisitor and you share quite the resemblance. And whether or not you want to admit it to yourself, it doesn’t change the simple fact that Solas still cares about you. We figured he would not condemn us to die in whatever world he makes with you right there.”

Josephine rubbed her shoulder. “We are not asking you to talk to him or have anything to do with him beyond what you want. Only… mingle. Help your brother deal with the nobility I can’t. Be seen around the palace. We can't ask for more from you.”

“We could, actually.”

Josephine glared at her friend. “But we won’t.”

Evelyn grasped the hand that was on her shoulder and squeezed. “It’s all right. I can mingle and be civil. But that’s _all_.”

Leliana stared her down, but she refused to lower her eyes. While she may not like or agree with anything they said and want, she would do it. One last favor for longtime friends. After a moment, Leliana smiled and nodded her head as if their argument had never happened. Evelyn felt like she had just passed one of the Nightingale’s secret tests. “Good.” She clapped her on her free shoulder. “It’s good to have you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to get out. Work killed me and probably will for a couple more weeks before I can go back to updating every week.
> 
> In other news, I cleaned up the earlier chapters a bit by adding in some things that I accidentally took away in editing and added in dates before relevant sections. While I know what year and such this is taking place in, I figured it would help out if you also had that reminder of just how much time has actually gone by.


	4. iv

**20 Cloudreach 9:55**

* * *

“What do you think you’re doing?” Evelyn whispered as best she could without moving her lips too much. There were too many eyes and ears about, likely as he had planned with his little ambush.

She had done so well before now at avoiding Solas. She only came to the palace in the late morning, when there would be too many people about for him to corner her; never strayed too far from any of her friends… But it seemed that wouldn’t deter him anymore.

“Can we not talk?”

“No.”

He sighed as he led her toward a quieter hallway, hand firm and too warm against the small of her back, further away from Varric and Dorian than she cared to be. “Don’t be childish. It’s never suited you.”

She planted her feet and refused to move beyond the hall entry. “So it’s fine for you to ignore me and tell me nothing, but the moment I do the same to you, _I’m_ the childish one?”

He took a step closer to her, forcing her to take a step back until she was trapped against the corner where no one could see them. “That is not the same and you know it.”

“Is that so? Because the way I see it, you had so many times to tell me… anything, even a little lie. But all you did was turn away like you were afraid I wouldn’t’ve understood. Or that I’d run off and tell the world your plans.”

Evelyn hoped for an argument that would justify her storming away. But he only chortled once and leaned away from her, likely seeing through her thin attempt. “Rather that you wouldn't.”

Her laugh is short and biting in a way she almost didn’t recognize as being able to come from her. “If love is to remain my crime, then spare me. I’ve heard this all before.”

“It’s not. I was not going to say anything before, but… I am under no illusions as to my innocence in many matters, even those regarding you. But I’ve found myself accused by you of things that simply aren’t true. Vhenan—”

“Don’t.” She brought her fingers to his mouth, the gesture more intimate than she intended. She dropped her hand as quickly as she had raised it. He and his soft voice made it so easy to forget. “Just… don’t. Just stop lying to me.”

She brushed by him, intending to leave before she could forget where and who they were even more. But he grabbed a hold of her arm again. “I’ve never—”

His grip on her arm slid down to her hand. She only turned to look when she felt soft fabric be pressed into her palm at the same time two human servants emerged from a room at the other end of the hall. “I merely wished to make sure you received your gloves back, Lady Trevelyan. You were in a hurry the other night.”

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped out of his reach again, pocketing the given gloves. If he wanted to play this game while she knew the whole palace knew about their history, she would oblige him. For Max’s sake. She thanked him through gritted teeth and even dropped her most mocking curtsy before heading back the way they had come. One of their friends was going to hear about it, leaving her alone long enough for this to happen.

* * *

Max sighed heavily once he had closed the door behind Arl Teagan. Sometimes he thought it had to be pure pettiness toward them both that Queen Anora would continue to have him act in this capacity. He had hoped that with the return of the Prince Consort these petty games would end, but his wishes were still ignored.

He inhaled sharply when he felt the familiar pressure of his lover’s hand between his shoulder blades. “I know you two do not get along, but can you please refrain from antagonizing the Arl?”

“I’m not the one who starts it.”

“That’s besides the point. Moreover, you’re not five, love.”

“There’s rumors he’s purposefully trying to be sent back to Ferelden. His wife is pregnant.”

“Thom.” He sighed and turned to face the once empty room. The _far more_ important individuals in Orlais had left before the Arl and replaced by the _actually_ important ones: almost all of his old inner circle aside from the absence of a few.

“ _If_ rumors are to be believed,” Josephine replied. Max had heard the same ones as well and found he couldn’t imagine the type of woman who would willingly marry him.

Max stepped toward his old friends and held up his hand. “The Arl’s personal life doesn’t matter. We need to focus on more important matters.”

Josephine stepped up next to him, a new sheet of paper on her old writing board. “Yes. Shall we begin? We have only a little while before all our absences are noticed.”

Leliana waved her hand. “I have Evelyn running interference for us. We have time.”

“Then I’ll start,” Max said. He looked to all his friends before Solas. There was no turning back after this, no matter the bridges it burned. “Both the Inquisition and the Chantry offer a full alliance with the new nation of Elvhenan.”

Solas inclined his head. “And it is welcomed. But I would be foolish not to ask what she is asking for in exchange.”

Josephine pulled out a sheaf from his much earlier pile of correspondence on the table and slid it toward Solas for him. “Despite her bluster, the Chantry has been weakened from its infighting with both the Templars and Mages. She has already had to make far too many concessions in order to keep everything together, so all she is asking for is a non-aggression pact for five years after this venture.”

Varric whistled lowly as Solas perused the letter. But it was Dorian who spoke up, “Must have been some infighting for her to make that offer.”

They had no idea. And it was partly Max’s fault as he didn’t have the Inquisition give its all to help her quell everything, too focused was he on his own goals. “Change is rarely met with open arms as you all should know.”

Solas put down the letter. “Then I would be a fool to turn aside this offer.”

Max nodded as Josephine recorded quickly.

“Orlais cannot come to an agreement on how to proceed,” Leliana spoke next. “Briala and Celene have...differing views on not only you, but the Inquisition as well. While Gaspard, well, I would assume it should be obvious as to what his reply to everything is.”

Max grimaced. That balance of power was one he regretted most. “It’s unsurprising, given who they are all.”

Leliana nodded once in agreement. “Nevertheless, there should be little trouble or interference from them no matter the outcome. Orlais still bears the scars of civil war to throw itself into another.”

He heard Josephine still scribbling away as she said, “In much the same way, Antiva will not be involved more than we already are. As long as the trade routes stay open, that is.”

Max watched as Varric was the next to sigh. He knew something was weighing heavily on quite a few of his friends, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Now, he had a feeling, he would find out whether or not he wanted to.

“We’ve already hashed out enough about Kirkwall and other Marcher states the last couple of days. So long as you keep your promise to help us with the mage problem, you won’t have any trouble on Kirkwall’s end.”

Solas nodded. “Despite our disagreements, I have yet to actually break my word to anyone here.”

“Good.” There was another sigh from Varric. “Now, I hate to break up all this ‘good’ news and all, but… Look, I’m just going to say it. There’s likely going to be some shit going down in the Anderfels and with the Wardens.”

That… was not what Max was expecting to hear. Sure, the Wardens had gone quiet after Corypheus’ defeat, but he figured that was more in line with how they normally operated without taking into consideration their own struggles coping with everything that had happened.

“How utterly unsurprising,” Solas said, drawing Max back into the present, “that an organization predicated on terrible decisions would make another.”

“Solas.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose where he could already feel a headache beginning to form. How many times had Solas started a similar argument whenever the Wardens were brought up?

But Varric beat him to it this time. “Look, I’m not bringing this up to rehash their old decisions, right or wrong. I’m saying this because there’s some real shit about to happen there, according to Hawke. Neither of us even dared to write it down on the off-chance it reaches the wrong people.”

And that did nothing to help Max’s headache.

“Oh, are some more of their secrets about to leak out?” Dorian asked.

“I wish.” Varric sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So Hawke went to Weisshaupt and I heard from her for about a year. Then Weisshaupt went completely dark for four years, and that’s when Hawke and the surviving Heroes of Ferelden came back.”

“We know that already, Varric,” Leliana said, echoing his own thoughts. “Just as none of them will speak of anything that happened.”

“Except that Hawke never could keep anything to herself.”

“Just tell us, Varric.”

“Where to even start...” Varric’s mumbled words didn’t sit right with Max. “All right. So by the time Hawke arrived at Weisshaupt, some of the Warden-Recruits there had recently found a diary. It belonged to the twin sister of the Hero of the Fourth Blight. And they followed it, to a clutch of griffon eggs. _Viable_ griffon eggs.”

Max was certain he wasn’t the only one who took in a sharp breath at that.

_Griffons_.

From one of his pockets, Varric produced a downy soft feather the likes of which Max had never seen before. Varric slid it over to Solas.

“The one thing Daisy always wanted was a griffon. Hawke figured this would have to be good enough for now.”

Max hadn’t seen such a pensive look on Solas since the last time they were at Halamshiral. But he took the proffered gift. “I’ll make sure it gets to her.”

“Anyone else would be thrilled mentioning the return of griffons. Yet you look like you’ve been asked to help close another breach.”

When Varric only sighed again, Max spoke up. “Thom does have a point, Varric.”

“Because that’s not all.”

“It never is, is it?”

“They kicked out their First Warden, or whatever they call their leader. That was partly why your warden friends left,” he continued, nodding his head toward Leliana. “They were trying to make one of them their new leader. Hawke said they wanted nothing to do with it. So as far as I understand, they’re leaderless now with actual griffons. And their former leader is now the effective ruler of the Anderfels. He’s the young King Baldewin’s regent.”

He heard Josie suck in a breath from beside him as she furiously scribbled notes. “I should have looked deeper into the background of the new regent. But he was so well-loved by the people that I thought it inconsequential.”

Varric snorted. “From what Hawke said, he’s been working on that for years.”

“Nevertheless, we will have to keep an eye on the Anderfels.” Max sighed. He knew it was too much to ask for an easy time with these talks, but that was just ridiculous. Griffons and Warden Regents… He shook his head.

“Then I should mention the news we received from Cassandra earlier today now,” Leliana said before he could focus on anything else. She pulled out a note from inside her overcoat and put it in the middle of the table. “King Marcus has finally died.”

“And Nevarra is taken out of the picture now.” Max found himself nodding along with Solas’ words.

“Effectively. If rumors are to be believed, the people are wanting new direction,” Josephine said. “They will be too focused on their power void to care about anything else.”

“Yes,” Leliana agreed. “Cassandra writes as much in her letter.”

“On the cheery note about power grabs,” Thom interjects, bringing all their attention to him considering his earlier silences, “I have word from Prince Consort Cousland.” From one of his many pockets, he pulled out two letters and handed them to Leliana first. Max took no offense to that as Leliana and the Prince were friends long before he had ever set foot in Ferelden. Besides, the whole reason Thom had spent so much time in Denerim was because Leliana had requested it.

“Despite what the Arl might say and the Queen too, Cousland has pledged his support for this. And says he has the majority opinion of the Landsmeet he’s in the process of calling.” Thom met his gaze across the table and gave him a wry smile. “So don’t let the bastard get to you. Ferelden’s behind you both on this. Like the Marcher states, he just wants help dealing with the influx of mages.”

“That is surprising. But not an unwelcome turn of events.” Solas spoke his thoughts. Max nodded as he took one of the letters from Leliana.

But before he could read it, Dorian spoke. “I really hate to be the one to break up all this relatively good news, but I fear I must. Tevinter is unlikely to help, and might even be stupid enough to stand against you all.”

Max smirked over the top of the letter. “And that’s different from any other time how?”

“Because we’ve never also been on the verge of falling to the Qunari as well.” He sighed as that got everyone’s attention on him. “It’s no secret that the city of Qarinus fell to Qunari control a handful of years ago. What is a secret is that we still have not retaken it. And only a fool would think they aren’t using it as a staging ground for a siege on Minrathous.”

“So what are we supposed to do about this?”

Dorian only shook his head at Max’s question. “I wish I knew.”

“None of the Marcher states will help out,” Varric said. “Not even under the guise of fighting the Qunari. Too much bad blood there.”

“And there are too many former slaves in Elvhenan for me to successfully order assistance. Not without uprisings.”

“And the Archon wouldn’t accept any outside help. Especially not from elves or the southern Chantry.”

Max knew there was no way Victoria would allow them to do anything involving the Qunari. Or the public. All that would do is drudge up even more old rumors about whether or not he had managed to purge all the spies from the Inquisition. Leliana was the one to break the silence that fell over them. “I could write to the Arishok, play on the friendships we once had. But I do not think it will do much good.”

“No, it probably would do more harm than anything else.”

“Anyway,” Dorian cut him off, “it is what it is. Tevinter will be either a hostile force to this alliance or one quickly taken out of the equation by the Qunari. All our hands are tied on that front for now.”

Max sighed. “Unless the Archon agrees to outside help. And everyone agrees to give it.”

“We will likely have to wait until the Qunari occupy Minrathous for that to be an option though,” Josie voiced what Max knew everyone was likely thinking. “In any case, we should return soon. Even Evelyn can’t keep the court from noticing our disappearances for much longer. Shall we reconvene in two days time to smooth out the finer details?”

Max leaned against the table, lost in thought even as everyone else cleared out. He knew he should read the letter from Prince Cousland or try to write out more to the alliance with Solas, but his thoughts drifted back to Evelyn. The most pressing and easiest problem at his fingertips. Despite her promise on her first night here, they hadn’t had a chance to talk freely since then. It was a good and bad thing, as now his earlier plans were evolving without even knowing if she would stick around to be a part of them. And he desperately needed her to stay.

But how?

* * *

“I suppose I should be glad you’re this focused on your job for once, Mivra. Though it is a strange change receiving updates from your sister instead.”

She didn’t start, barely paused for half-a-breath in her absentminded fanning at Solas’ words. Mivra had heard the end of his conversation with his former friends and knew there would be no hiding from him, considering her vantage point. The balcony pillars hid her perfectly from her job in the ballroom below, but not from anyone on the same floor as her.

She should have known that with her job lingering about the palace every day, she would eventually run into Solas. And she hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that she had been hiding from him ever since she realized just who her job was.

She closed her hand fan and turned to face her boss; the leader of the Elvhen. “Because I still don’t know why I have to watch her. Or what game they’re all playing at using her in this way.”

He walked over to the balustrade and leaned his weight against it, giving away his position to any who would look up from below. But he wasn’t the one on the job. Even now, Mivra couldn’t figure out why, out of all the nobles and mercenaries and spies who descended on Halamshiral for this week, he would use her to spy on _her_. That dark-haired merc who the Inquisition (or Chantry or whatever title they wanted to use now) had dressed up and were parading about as nobility.

And as she watched him watch her mingle below, the mystery only deepened. Rarely did he let emotion cross his face, especially during political games like this, but…

“You speak as if you’ve come to care.”

He was baiting her. A test. Even after being in his employ for years, he still did things like this. But…

Mivra glanced down at the woman. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“She’s not nobility, yet they’re playing at some game by having her pretend. Like they want a bodyguard. I don’t know why they’d need one, given who they all are.”

Piercing eyes slanted her way. “You sound so sure of what her profession isn’t.”

The first time she met him years ago, she had covered her little sister’s mouth and lied. She had a feeling he always knew, but he had never tried to needle it out of her. Now, she wasn’t sure if he knew he was needling that first lie.

She looked back down at the woman and sighed. Better to cut the bandage off all at once. “She’s Ellana. A merc for hire. She never comes this far south.”

“I thought all humans looked the same to you.” She could hear the smirk in his voice at catching her in another of her lies. Except that one wasn’t really a lie.

“They do. But I know that face. I know that scar.” Some nights she could close her eyes and see that young woman’s face dripping with fresh blood from a dagger she wasn’t fast enough to deflect, but smiling as she told her everything was going to be all right now. “She has it because of me.”

“Oh?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “The mercs who saved us years ago, they weren’t all elven. And saving slaves wasn’t part of their job, but she did anyway. Even the elves wanted to leave us, and did. She gave up her cut to stay behind and get us to Serault, even gave us enough coin that we wouldn’t starve.”

Everything she and her sister currently were was because of Ellana. They would have been sold back to Tevinter or died out in either the wilds or the streets of Serault if she had cared as little as the other mercenaries she had been with. The only reason the innkeeper in Serault had given them work, and thus set them up with Solas, was because Ellana had begged on their behalf.

So not reporting everything she did during her stay in Halamshiral as Solas had requested had been a small way of repaying that debt; why even her sister had given her free room and board at her inn. It wasn’t like Solas was using his regular room anyway with the appearances he currently had to keep.

In response, she swore Solas smirked and shook his head. But they were so minute, she couldn’t be sure. Without looking her way, he said, “Tell me: what do you know of _The Apostate’s Lady Fair_?”

It always threw her off when he did this. Abruptly changing the subject, only to wind it back to their original conversation. Only this time, she couldn’t think of what that had to do with her current job. “...The tavern song? It’s Orlesian. Something about not giving aid to mages, from the war.”

This time she knew he chuckled. “Ferelden, actually.” She raised an eyebrow in surprise and waited as he gathered his thoughts. He never stopped looking down at Ellana. “It’s no secret that Ferelden wanted the Inquisition completely disbanded. When that didn’t happen, the Queen and some of the nobility did their best to discredit the organization. But they underestimated just how much the peasantry and even some of the gentry esteemed the former Inquisition and its members.

“Instead they went an Orlesian route. The Inquisitor has a younger sister, one whose counsel everyone knows he actually listens to, but who they do not consider an official member. She was… a problematic noble even before the organization existed. And her love affair with a former mage of the Inquisition was a poorly kept secret in every social circle. Thus, that song was born.”

He scoffed. “It was inconsequential enough to have been overlooked by everyone it involved until they realized each country had its own version spawning rumors. The Trevelyan’s disowned her publicly when it was used to spread a rumor through Kirkwall about a failed invasion by Starkhaven that she tried to get the Inquisitor to back. There were other wild rumors from Nevarra to Orzammar about equally outlandish things that never occurred.

“But they worked as there were calls for the Divine to expel and condemn everything involving the Inquisition. And the reputation they had built eroded as even the common folk they had helped closed their doors on them. It was another blow too soon and too quickly after the Qunari plot that allowed the Queen’s plan to take root: _b_ _eware, beware, the apostate’s lady fair._ ”

“ _With bloodstained lips, she’ll lead you to a grisly_ _death_ _,”_ she finished the line without thinking. But he said nothing in return. “That obviously didn’t happen,” she prodded when his silence still continued. Only this time, it was because Ellana had finally broken away from the noble she was entertaining and looked up at them. Well, at Solas.

Mivra had never witnessed her glare at anyone here until now, as she met Solas’ gaze. There was something there between the two of them that she couldn’t pin down. But other thoughts were becoming clearer.

Solas didn’t break eye contact with Ellana. “No, it didn’t. Because she disappeared from their fortress one night, eleven years ago. No one could find her or knew what happened to her until now.” He inclined his head toward Ellana before stepping away from the balustrade.

She stared down at the woman who had saved her life. She played the mercenary part so well, Mivra wondered if anyone ever realized she wasn’t truly one. “Ellana doesn’t exist.”

“Not entirely. Her name is Evelyn, though. Let me know if you ever hear that song.”

Mivra nodded and Solas walked away. Alone with her thoughts and Evelyn focusing her attention on the dwarf and noble below, pieces and thoughts began to fall into place. She didn’t know much about everything involving the Inquisition before the Chantry, but she knew enough to know there were only three mages important enough to help cause a scandal the likes of which her boss had described.

One, she was certain from the rumors she had heard over the last few days, cared nothing for women. The second was currently Divine. And the third…

Well, it explained too much and not enough.

* * *

She huffed as she finally found her way to the table Varric and Dorian had claimed. The hours spent being nice to nobles had only worsened her mood from her earlier conversation with Solas. Catching him spying down on her hadn't helped either. And they hadn’t even had the decency to be around after that. Before they could say anything to her, she snatched Dorian’s wineglass from his hand and finished it in one long drink.

“I _was_ drinking that, you know.”

She handed him back the empty glass. “You don’t even like the wine here.”

He waved his hand, half at her and half to get the attention of a servant. “That’s beside the point.”

“Neither of us have much room to speak, but drinking won’t help your problem go away.”

She sighed. She knew that already. “But it does help drown the memory for a while.”

Dorian raised his newly filled glass in agreement. “Here, here.”

“Look.” Varric sighed and waved away the servant trying to give her a fresh glass. She pouted at him. “I know you don’t want to hear it, and Andraste’s tits if this is about what I think it is, I don’t even want to be talking about it, but you really can’t go on ignoring either of them like this.”

She huffed; she knew that too. But just because she knew it didn’t mean she liked it. And she wanted to avoid it as long as possible. Though she hadn’t seen or spoken to either man in literal years, and she liked to think herself over everything… She knew everything about the life she tried to build for herself as Ellana would crumble at a single, “Ir abelas,” or one of Max’s doe-eyed looks.

So instead, she went the safer, younger Evelyn route. “What does it matter if I do or don’t? It will change nothing about the past.”

But her two friends shared a look. She didn’t like the heaviness of their frowns or the unspoken significance passing between their eyes. “Or is Solas right _yet again_ , and I’m ignorant about even more than I realize?”

It was Dorian who broke eye contact first, choosing to focus on his drink instead. She rounded on Varric for answers instead. “I don’t know what it will change, but here’s the thing.” He gestured all around them. “All of this here is the result of three years worth of work. You know the Divine called an Exalted March on the Dales?”

She nodded. That was just basic knowledge for any Southerner, no matter how removed from the world they tried to be. “Of course. Just as everyone knows one of the reasons it failed was because they weren’t situated in just the Dales.”

“Except it never actually failed. Officially, it succeeded.”

“No, it didn’t.”

Varric sighed. “Around three years ago, the Chantry was going to throw the bulk of its might into one last assault that would either swing it to our favor or be utterly crushed. When this push was still just a rumor, I received a letter from Max not through any official channel. He was supposedly only a few days behind it and wanted to be smuggled into Tevinter.”

Evelyn turned to look at Dorian at this point. Three years ago, she hadn’t been that far from Tevinter and Dorian had been the target of an assassination plot. Or had that last fact been just a cover? Or the result of someone noticing Max in Tevinter? She could feel her heart try to lodge itself in her throat when he still wouldn’t meet her eyes. So she turned back to Varric. “Why? If that assault was going to happen, Divine Victoria wouldn’t have let him leave the front lines.”

“Hence why he smuggled himself out of Orlais,” was Varric’s reply. “He knew it wasn’t going to work. But he had heard word of a powerful dreamer mage in Tevinter. Max wanted to try and use him to reach out to Solas one last time. And, if need be, kill him.

“Hawke recognized the name of the mage he wanted before I did. Feynriel. Since we knew him, and he technically still owed us for saving his life, Hawke left for Tevinter to try and find him. Save the Inquisitor some time hunting him down.”

“That’s when Hawke and Fenris both showed up at my door with the boy two days before Max did,” Dorian said, taking over the story from Varric. Still, he refused to look at her. “But it was too late. Feynriel had already committed himself to Solas’ cause. He wouldn’t budge even after Max pleaded with him. The only information he would give was that he was effectively powerless against Solas, and he couldn’t find him in the Fade even if he wanted to because he never stayed in one place for long, always looking for something. Especially around that time of year.”

Her hand came to rest against her neck where she could feel that her heart had finally lodged itself in her throat. It reminded her of the soft look and even softer words Solas had said to her, and she didn’t want to follow that train of thought anymore.

“We were all about to give it up as a lost cause at those words when Max changed everything. He asked if Feynriel would help if he swore he wouldn’t harm Solas at all, only talk. When the boy agreed, Max said he knew exactly where Solas would be in a week’s time and we were instead to help Feynriel disguise him during their meeting.”

Dorian paused to take another drink from his wine. To Evelyn, it seemed more of a stalling tactic for him to think on what else he should reveal. “No one aside from Solas, Feynriel, and Max know what they discussed but when that last battle was to take place… There were no elves on the battlefield. They had pulled back into their own territories, and never met the Divine’s army in open warfare again. Not long after, rumors of these peace talks began to float about. Victoria spun it as a surrender, officially.”

“Not to sound conceited,” she said, “but I don’t know what any of that has to do with me and why I should talk to them.”

“The reason why Max was always on the front line against Solas was because you and your brother look too much alike. And he used that against him in every battle he could.”

She clenched her jaw as Josephine’s and Leliana’s earlier words became clearer. Even gone, she was used as a pawn. And now, what? That affect wasn’t enough anymore?

“And the only reason we are all here having this _delightful_ conversation,” Dorian spoke this time, “is because Max had Feynriel send him to Skyhold on the anniversary of your disappearance. As _you_.”

She swallowed thickly around the earlier lump in her throat. Too many things were starting to come together and she didn’t like the implication of any of it. So she did what she had learned to do: laugh awkwardly and change the subject to happier times.

But she knew she wouldn’t sleep that night, not with her heart sitting that heavily in her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lololol what is having a life outside of work? Since the last time I updated, I have been transferred twice, rebuilt my old department twice and now promoted. So we'll see if I can update on a much better and more prompt schedule now that I shouldn't be moving around for a while.
> 
> So you guys get a longer chapter as an apology. And the stage is finally completely set for everything that will happen in the future.


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